Grave Intentions (Darkling Mage 3)

priate places.

Asher gasped audibly, accentuating his wonder with a low, awe-inspired “Wow.”

I did my damnedest not to look quite as gobsmacked, but it was so, so fucking cool. Yet as hard as I was trying to keep my expression neutral, Herald was clearly doing very much the same, struggling to keep the smug little smirk from crawling across his face.

“That was so awesome,” Asher said. “I wish I could do that.”

“Soon,” Herald said, adjusting his glasses in what I interpreted as a very self-satisfied manner. “Your boss is extremely proficient. He’ll show you the ropes in due time. I mean, hey, if he could teach Dustin here how to light a spark – ”

“Hey. Wow. So rude. I’m still learning.”

“ – then surely Carver can teach you everything you need to know about becoming a proper mage. So. Now that your circle is cast, you need to have the offerings in place.” He slipped a fortune cookie out of its packet, crushing it in his fist and letting the crumbs fall into the circle. “And now the part that takes getting used to.”

Herald made a motion with his wrist, almost like he was unfolding an invisible butterfly knife, and then it appeared, a glowing purple blade the size and sharpness of a scalpel. Again my insides burbled with envy, until I realized that with practice, I could hone my power to weaponize the Dark Room’s shadows the exact same way. In time, I told myself. A step at a time.

Herald dragged the edge of his arcane blade across his finger. Asher winced. So did I. The blade was sharp as anything, drawing blood as soon as it made contact with Herald’s skin. He squeezed his finger, letting the blood drip into the circle. It sizzled and smoked as it hit the cement. Herald began to chant.

“You also need to incant,” I said to Asher softly, careful not to interrupt Herald. “It’s how you communicate your intent. Doesn’t really matter what you say, as long as you tell the entity through your conviction that you deserve an audience. It’s like a text message.”

Asher nodded eagerly, and we looked on as the little stenciled sigil in the brick wall that marked Arachne’s gateway began to spin. Within seconds it expanded into a shimmering portal of gossamer and gleaming silver. Herald sucked on his finger, then pushed his fists into his hips, admiring his work.

“Everyone pile in,” he said. “Time to meet Dust’s girlfriend.”

“Oh my God, she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Says you. I felt some resistance while I was incanting, but I casually mentioned that you were coming and the window of opportunity swung wide open.” He waggled his eyebrows. “She likes you, Dust. It’s something to keep in mind. The entities take care of their playthings.”

Playthings, he said. It made my skin crawl, remembering how that seemed to be the very dynamic the Eldest maintained with their servants. Stronger, older, and far more terrible than any of the entities of earth, all I knew of the Eldest was that they were bad, bad news, and that they warped those who served them in their image, like the shrikes, the shrieking, many-tentacled minions that made up their vast cosmic army. Or Thea herself, who grew more alien and insectoid each time I had the misfortune to encounter her.

I was about to enter the portal, this counting as my second official visit to Arachne’s domicile, when Asher skidded right in front of me, practically tangling his feet in his excitement to step through. He vanished among the swirling gossamer mists. I gave Herald a questioning look, but he just shrugged.

“Hey. I won’t fault the kid for his enthusiasm. That’s a good thing. Great foundation to build on for learning magic, and everything else there is to know about the arcane underground.”

“I’m enthusiastic, too.”

He gestured at the portal. “I believe you. Get in.”

I sighed and walked on through, not at all relishing the feeling of the portal somehow sticking to my clothes and hair and skin. The strands of energy made it feel very much like swimming through molasses, and the act of actually moving into the spider-queen’s realm was literally like walking through spiderwebs.

Herald followed not far behind, and Asher was already gawking at the bizarre, jade-green enormity of Arachne’s domicile. Great swathes of what looked like silk draped from the ceilings, moving gently in a light breeze that none of us could feel on our skin or hair.

Braziers of stone pulsed with sickly green light, the only illumination in a dimension so dark that all we could really see were the strange, silken curtains and the great stone dais where Arachne held audience. It looked very much the same as the last time I visited, though that still gave me no comfort. What was different this time was Arachne’s total absence.

I elbowed Herald in the ribs. “Where is she?” I hissed.

“Beats me,” Herald said, looking around cautiously, the ghoulish light reflecting on his glasses. “She responded to my summoning, which means she should be home.”

“This is so cool,” Asher said absently. “I love this place.”

A high, feminine voice tittered from somewhere in the unseeable ceiling far above us. “I am glad to hear it.”

The silks began to shiver, and out of the silence trickled the sound of things skittering, of tiny mouths and pincers chittering in excitement. I balled my fists and stilled myself: they were coming.

Out of the corners and darkest recesses of Arachne’s domicile her children came pouring in their thousands and spindly millions, spiders of every shape and species crawling down the walls, over the dais, descending from the ceiling on fine strands of silk.

Among them was the great, heaving bulk of Arachne’s thorax, lowering from out of the high darkness, legs as thick and long as spears wavering as they negotiated her web. She moved headfirst, her hair and her veils brushing against the ground as she reached the floor and set her body upright. Arachne’s eight legs served as her throne on the dais, the slender and wickedly white pallor of her human torso gleaming an eerie green in her domicile’s jade-light.

“Herald Igarashi of the Lorica,” Arachne said, her head giving the slightest nod. She turned to me, the sharpness of her smile visible under the hem of her veil. “And my sweetling, the boy who walks through shadows.” Arachne tilted her head as she turned her attention towards Asher. “This one I do not know.”